


This Is Gross: A 10 Stage Guide For Coming To Terms With Your Love Sickness

by acoolegg



Series: This Is Gross: The Short Story Series [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 10 stages of love, Dating, F/M, Fluff, Sick!Sans, human!AU, marriage proposals, mettaton is an idol/tv star in this, other than cursing occasionally this is mostly PG, reader has an established name, reader identifies as female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:49:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acoolegg/pseuds/acoolegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust me, I'm a doctor, I know how these things work.<br/>(I actually have no clue what's going on, please help me. Why did they put me in charge of writing this guide.)</p><p>Human!AU / Immunodeficient!Sans/Reader<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stages One through Five

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vakarian_shepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vakarian_shepard/gifts).



> polarcapsicles made me develop a crush on smol human!Sans
> 
> Sans' design belongs to bedsafely (who can be found here: http://bedsafely.tumblr.com/), and the design can be found here: http://bedsafely.tumblr.com/post/134554620102/i-never-thought-i-would-draw-a-human-sans-but-a  
> Papyrus' design can be found there as well, but they belong to siins (who can also be found on tumblr, here: http://siins.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I used the 10 Stages of Love Challenge from Lunaescence as prompts. It can be found here: http://www.lunaescence.com/fics/challenges.php?chalid=688
> 
> My tumblr can be found here: acoolegg.tumblr.com  
> Apologies if you don't celebrate Christmas, it's just a fluff mechanism.

**Stage One: Notice your sickness for the first time. (Or, in this case, try and engage with your sickness.)**

You took in a hasty breath, staring at the man sitting on the other side of the cafe. He was scrolling through something on his phone, strikingly beautiful blue eyes tracing over the words. He occasionally looked up, those same blue eyes looking over the room before falling back down. You wished you could see what his entire face looked like, but the mask with a smile blocked his mouth and nose. He was adorable either way, though.

“Okay, you can do it, Cheese." The girl sitting in the booth beside you shot you an odd look as you continued to work yourself up. “You see him everyday here, and he’s always alone.” You pat your hands against your cheeks. “He probably is really nice and would like some company.” You started to pat your cheeks more hurriedly. “And you know he’s positively adorable.” You stood up quickly, but your knees clattered into the table before you. Everyone looked your way, even the man with beautiful eyes. You started to blush, feeling your knees buckle beneath you. “No, Cheese, you’re already up, you’re not going back down,” you whispered.

So you put on your best smile (which probably looked really strange, what with how you were struggling not to cry) and walked towards Blue Eyes. He blinked once before he sat his phone down, not looking away from you. His eyes sparkled with interest as you approached him.

You could see the oxygen tank he had to carry around on the ground beside him, the trolley covered in assorted stickers of skeletons. Wait, skeletons? You loved skeletons. They were apart of the human anatomy, and you loved the human anatomy. You loved skeletons the most, though. Compared to the muscles and veins and fat and skin, they were the very best. And they were so sturdy, it took so much to break them and-

You hadn’t realized how you stopped in the middle of the cafe to stare at his tank until he coughed uncomfortably. You… you probably looked like a huge bitch, just staring at his tank like that. He probably thought you were some kind of asshole that hated people that needed oxygen. Oh, god you were starting to sound terrible. You looked around hurriedly, feeling like a complete bitch.

Instead, you said loudly (more like screamed, but it’s whatever), “I think your skeleton stickers are really uber cool!” Your cheeks flushed when he looked at you, his eyebrows raising. He looked very surprised. You rushed out of the cafe before you could make an even bigger fool of yourself, thankful that your wallet and phone were safely tucked away in your pocket.

Blue Eyes stared after you, watching you through the window as you ran into a light pole as you tried to flee the scene. He gaped at you when you grabbed the light pole, smacking your head against it. He broke into a full laugh when you turned to look through the window, your eyes going wide and the bright marks on your forehead being dyed an even deeper red when you blushed. You ran again, smacking into the light post once more. You looked at it, clearly angry at it, before you sidestepped it and ran away.

He grinned, feeling the paper of his mask spread over his lips. All he could think of at that moment was, _Wow, she sure is cute._

**Stage Two: Introducing yourself to your sickness.**

Blue Eyes hadn’t seen you around the cafe for a while. He had been looking for you avidly since your confession (if he could even call it that. Telling someone their stickers were cool wasn’t exactly a confession). There was something about how your cheeks became just a hint more red than the rest of your face that he found charming. He was bummed that you hadn’t come back yet.

His phone lit up with angry texts of, ‘YOU BETTER NOT BE AT THAT CAFE AGAIN!’ and ‘I swear to god, bud, you’re gonna catch E. Coli if you keep eating there. That cafe is gross.’ He shrugged, typing back casual responses that nulled his brother’s worry and his friend’s terrible taste.

There was a loud clattering from outside the window he always sat beside. He glanced out, seeing you. You were looking at him, eyes once again wide with anxiety. Your face had another red mark. He figured you ran into the light post again, by the way you casted an angry glare towards it. He couldn’t help but snort when you realized that he was staring at you. Your face turned ten shades of red and you started to pat your cheeks furiously.

Blue Eyes watched as you looked between him and the door, then as you mumbled something to yourself. You clenched your fist in front of you, nodding quickly before you walked towards the door. Your legs appeared weak as you marched in. He could see your knees shaking. For some reason, he found himself wanting to stand and help you get close to him. When he started to, he was tugged back by the tubes in his nose.

Ah, yeah. Oxygen is important.

He sat back down, inching towards the end of the booth so he could greet you. He looked over you casually, taking in your appearance. Your hair was tied back messily, a few tendrils falling into your face. There were dark bags under your eyes, and he noticed that you had a tongue piercing when you licked your lips. It was an aqua colored skull. (Holy hell, you weren’t kidding about thinking skeletons were cool.) Other than that, you were a gray sweatshirt with the words ‘Call Me Daddy’ spread across it, some leggings and a pair of boots.

When you stood in front of him, he swore your face couldn’t get any more red. He was wrong, ‘cause your ears started to turn pink when he spoke. “ _Helllllllllo_ , Daddy.” You sputtered, hugging your arms across your chest to hide the words. “Heh, nice to see you again, pal. How’s your buddy, the light post?”

“I-I-I! We’re! Not! Friends!” You started to pale (he was bummed, because he decided you were cutest when red) but you stuttered out, “W-we’re in a committed frenemy relationship, thank you!” His mask twisted with his smile, then stretched with his laugh. Your blush came back, but you smiled widely. “Ah, you really are adorable,” you said wistfully. It was Blue Eyes’ turn to blush. You could see it spread under his eyes and across his barely visible nose, going up to the tips of his ears. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, especially when you leaned closer to him. “Oh, jeez, you’re breathing really heavy.”

Your fingertips barely touched his shoulder, and he jumped slightly. He looked up at you with those beautiful blue eyes. You could see his mask puff out with every breath he took. He looked like he was having an asthma attack.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Your voice stopped stuttering, and you sounded firm. You crouched down in front of him so he didn’t have to look up at you. You lifted your hand from his shoulder, using it to help support your weight. “Calm down, sweetie.”

“I-I really can’t.” He started to cough. It felt like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. “A-ah, shit, sweetheart,” he coughed again, “I’m g-gonna die.” You set your hand on his kneecap, rubbing it comfortingly. Had he not be enraptured by the pretty girl squatting in front of him, he would’ve realized that he was making an utter fool out of himself in the middle of a cafe.

“Well, Gonna Die, I plan on making sure you don’t.” You smiled when he laughed, the coughing growing less frequent.

“That was a sh-” he coughed loudly. “-Shit joke, kid.” Your grin widened when he rubbed a hand to his mask-covered mouth. The smile on the paper smeared, and you assumed that the ink had gotten wet from his coughs. When he pulled his hand down, the blush on his cheeks had disappeared and his eyes were tilted in such a way that they matched his drawn-on smile. “Name’s Sans, pal.”

You stared at him for a second, blinking once before realizing he was waiting for your name. You looked away, because how were you going to tell him your parents named you something ridiculous? “I’m… Cheese.” It was his turn to blink. Then, he started laughing.

“Pfft, what? Stop pulling my leg, kid. What’s your name?” You could feel your ears turn red, meaning your entire face was red. He realized you were telling the truth. “Cheese? That’s your _real_ name?”

You nodded, then shook your head, “Well, Cheese is short for Cheesecake.” He raised a brow curiously. “My full name is Cream Cheesecake Ball.” He snorted, then started to laugh loudly.

“You’re Cream Cheese Ball!?” You looked away, crossing your arms in a huff. Your name always got ridiculous laughs.

“My sister’s name is Chocolate Chip, and my brother’s Peanut Butter. My family is… freaking… weird…” He continued to laugh, covering his mouth (as if that would hide anything that wasn’t already hidden). You liked his laugh.

“Well, my full name is Sans Serif Gaster, if that makes you feel any better.” You snorted. “My brother’s Papyrus Typeface Gaster, and my dad’s name is Wingdings.” You started to laugh at that. The door to the cafe slammed open. “Ah, speak of the devil.” You looked over your shoulder, seeing a tall as fuck guy approaching you and Sans. You fell to your butt from sheer shock when he spoke.

“SANS, I HAVE BEEN TEXTING YOU FOR THE LAST TEN MINUTES. HOW DID I KNOW YOU WERE HERE, YOU ASK? WELL I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, KNOW YOU LIKE THE BACK OF MY HAND.” At this, the man that claimed to be ‘THE GREAT PAPYRUS’ posed dramatically. Then, he looked down at his brother. “YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE TO YOUR CLASSES.”

Sans shrugged, “Hey man, get off my **class**.” Your eyes widened at how casually he made that joke.

Papyrus didn’t take it to well, “SANS! THERE IS A YOUNG LADY IN OUR PRESENCE! DON’T MAKE SUCH CRASS JOKES IN FRONT OF HER!” You giggled. Chivalry wasn’t dead, it seemed.

“Ah, yeah. My new friend. Cheese Ball.” His eyebrows rose, and you figured he was grinning from behind his mask. “Welp, Cheesecake, I’ve got to be going. I’ve got classes at the Underground today.” He stood up after moving his oxygen tank, gripping its handle and setting it on the ground. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Or are you gonna ditch out of embarrassment again?”

Your cheeks flushed. He had noticed that? Damn. You really made a fool out of yourself.

“I’ll be here tomorrow, no worries. Gotta hang out with _my_ new friend, Sans Serif.” Papyrus looked between you two, not catching on.

“SANS, WHY IS SHE ON THE GROUND?”

Sans didn’t answer, instead wheeling his tank out after picking up his phone. You watched as his brother trailed after him, clearly chastising him for something. You grinned. _”I’ve got classes at the Underground today.”_

Wait, shit, so did you. You stood up, running out the door of the cafe. You wanted to be a orthopedic surgeon, you couldn’t skip out on classes! You sprinted past Sans and Papyrus, who hadn’t gotten far. “I’ve got classes, too! Later, Sans!”

**Stage Three: Becoming familiar with your sickness.**

From that day on, you met Sans at the cafe.

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming…That’s a lie. It was November in Wisconsin, and it was fucking cold. You gripped a styrofoam cup in your hand, blowing at the steam that came off of your milky coffee. Sans sat across from you, typing away on his laptop. His hands were covered in plastic gloves, though you knew that he found the things useless as he had just sanitized the computer.

Papyrus had told you that, while he cared for you dearly, he would capture you and give you to Undyne (a mutual friend none of you realized you shared, who was also a cop) if you didn’t at least try to force Sans to protect himself from germs. Despite the fact that the threat was phrased in a very kind way, you knew he was serious. Pap took Sans’ health _very_ seriously.

You must’ve been staring at his hands, because Sans looked up from his computer. His mask moved as he spoke. “You need a **hand** with something, Cheese?” You shook your head, bringing your coffee up to your lips and sipping. He watched you with interest, his eyebrows raised in such a way that you recognized it as a part of his smile. The upper half of his face was very expressive, you had come to realize.

“Nah, nah. I’m just glad you put the gloves on this time. Pap’ll get on my ass if I don’t have you do at _least_ that.” He nodded, blue eyes drifting back to the laptop. You had a notebook spread in front of you, diagram after diagram of bones on the pages. You were studying the bones of the carpus in class. You took a hand off of your coffee once you were certain he didn’t have anything else to say, and traced over the bones of the wrist, mumbling their names as you did so.

You two sat like that for a long while, studying in a peaceful quiet. Over the few months you had known Sans, you had come to value his presence and input. You two would bounce ideas for papers off of each other in the cafe, discuss different subjects, or maybe just talk about your lives. Overall, you had quickly realized he was your best friend.

You smiled softly. He looked up, taking in your peaceful expression before he smiled himself. He knew you couldn’t see it all the time, but you made him genuinely happy. He sniffled slightly.

Wrong move on his part.

Your head shot up, and you stared at him worriedly. “Oh, jeez, Cheese. It’s just a sniff.”

You said worriedly, “You could be sick. Or dying. Or both!”

“I’m _not dying_ , Cheese.”

“You could be, though!” you shot back. You looked around the cafe when it fell silent. Cue the blush. You repeated, this time in a whisper, “You could be sick, though, Sans. Alphys didn’t exactly prepare her place for you when we visited last week…”

“Oh, come on, _mom._ It’s just a sniff.” He chuckled when your blush deepened.

“Don’t call me mom.”

“Okay…

...Mom.”

“I’M GOING TO PUNCH YOU… gently.”

**Stage Four: Become attracted to your sickness**

_Shit._ You stood at the counter of the cafe, talking to the owner excitedly. You moved your arms around as you spoke, laughing every so often when they added something to the conversation. Sans looked away, trying to fight the tight feeling he felt in his stomach. He felt like he was going to puke the more he watched you talk animatedly to them. _Shit-_

You walked over, waving goodbye to the owner with the hand that didn’t hold your milky coffee. Your smile was bright. Sans felt better when it brightened because you looked at him. “Sans!” You said his name with such fondness, it made him smile behind his mask. “Are you sure you don’t want something? Grillby says that he can make you a special drink.”

The tightness in his stomach returned at the mention of the owner’s name. “Grillby? You two on first name basis, now?” He hoped that didn’t come off as bitter as he wanted it to. He didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t want you to get mad at him. Your smile twisted a bit, but you shook your head and laughed softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, we come here almost everyday. I figured I could learn the owner’s name.” You sat the coffee on the table as you sat down. He flushed when your foot nudged him. During your time together, you two had started having playful games of footsies. Lately, though, he had been more aggressive (if you could even get aggressive with footsies) with your games. He had touched your calf, your outer thigh, your ankle. Each touch got a blush out of you.

So he tapped your foot with his. You giggled, picking up a textbook and nudging his foot again. He grinned. _Let the games begin, then._ You two went along your business as you played. At one point, your foot nudged his inner thigh. He hoped you didn’t hear him inhale sharply. You blushed when he laid his feet on your lap. “Sans! You’re gonna get dust all over my legs!” He smirked beneath his mask, purposefully exaggerating his eyebrows so you knew he was. “Don’t you smirk at me, Sans. I’ll wipe that smirk right off your face.”

“With a kiss?” It had slipped out before he could stop it. Your eyes shot open, staring at him. He stared back. Blushes painted across both of your cheeks.

“W-what?”

“I, uh.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously, playing with the longer hairs there. “I mean, like. We should go on a date. First. We should go on a date before we kiss. Or, like-” When you smiled widely, he stopped rambling.

“You wanna go on a date? With me?”

“Yes.”

“Why? I’m weird.”

“And I’m hooked up to an oxygen tank twenty-four-seven.”

“‘Cause I take your breath away?”

His eyebrows fell, and his mouth was set in a straight line. He looked absolutely not amused, despite the stupid smile on his mask. “I’m the joke master here, Cheese.” Then, he smiled again, his whole face changing. “But yeah, that’s part of the reason.”

**Stage Five: Go on a date with your sickness.**

You stood in front of the mirror, looking at your outfit. A simple blue dress, your sugar skull necklace, a black jacket with skulls on it (your obsession with bones and skulls was starting to get out of hand, as you owned at least two t-shirts that said ‘Call Me Bone Daddy’ on them), a thick pair of tights, and a set of black flats. You were cute, you thought. You hoped. You knew Sans wouldn’t judge you or anything, but you wanted to be cute for him.

Your phone buzzed on your dresser. Picking it up, you saw that it was a picture of Sans. He wore a fur-lined blue coat and a black t-shirt with a rib cage on it. It had been the shirt you bought him for his birthday a while back. He had kept it, which made you smile His mask was on, his trademark smile there. You grinned, bouncing up and down. You texted a quick, ‘i hope i look as cute as you UwU’

You looked back in the mirror. You had decided to go to a stadium hosting a Mettaton concert for the evening. Sans was (apparently?) friends with MTT, and had gotten you two front row seats. You hoped your outfit would be warm enough. They said the stadium was heated, but… Yeah, you just didn’t want to be cold. Well, maybe if you were cold, Sans would hold you. You grabbed the front of your jacket, starting to slip it off your arms. No, no, that’s dumb.You two had to walk to the bus stop to get there and you’d die of the cold if you didn’t have the jacket on.

You stopped, having suddenly remembered something. Picking up your phone, you opened the picture of Sans again. He had taken the selfie from an angle, and you saw snow on the ground. He was outside. He was walking to your apartment building.

You dialed his number quickly, holding the phone to your ear as you ran around collecting your things. He picked up, “Yooooo?”

“YOU’RE GOING TO DIE.” You maneuvered your bag around your head, making sure your keys were in it before you sprinted out the door. “Sans, holy fuck, it’s like three degrees outside, you’re gonna get a chill!” You were taking the stairs, as you saw a group of people board the elevator on your floor.

“At least I’ll be chilled…”

You knew that trailing silence better than anyone. “If you don’t want me to get pissed I wouldn’t finish that sentence!”

“To the bone!” You groaned, slamming open the lobby’s doors and running down the sidewalk.

“Where are you?” you asked, stopping at the street corner to look over the crowd of people. It was, after all, the night before Christmas Eve and a lot of couples took the time to spend it with just each other before having to be with their families (you guessed it was for some kind of intimacy). He didn’t respond. You heard the dial tone. “Sans Serif Gaster,” you grumbled before yelling, “I WILL PUNCH YOU AT FULL FORCE!”

“Jeez, Cheese, calm down, you’re attracting attention.” You jumped when he touched your shoulder, looking around and seeing him staring at you with a grin in his eyes. You glared at him angrily, but it fell when you saw he was shivering. His face was stained red from the cold and snow, but somehow he looked paler. It had been three minutes since you received that picture. What the hell happened?

You hugged him tightly, burying your head into his shoulder. Your jacket fluttered around you as passerbyers walked by you two. “Jesus, Sans, you scared me.” You squeezed his shoulders, feeling him tremble. “You could get really sick if you’re out here too long! I thought we were gonna meet up at your place!” You pulled away to look at him, hands resting on his shoulders.

His cheeks had darkened with more red, but you thought it was because of a blush. With the hand not holding the trolley’s handle, he rubbed at his paper-covered nose. “Seven couldn’t come fast enough and… I wanted to see you.” You blushed at that, mouth opening slightly but your throat had gone dry. He was… actually the most adorable thing on the planet. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to calm yourself somehow. He wanted to see you. Sans wanted to see you. That was the cutest thing you had ever heard.

“You’re the most adorable thing I have ever seen.” His bright blue eyes looked up at you, and his mask moved with his smile. “Jesus, Sans, you sure do know how to sweep a girl off her feet.” You let go of him and smiled. “C’mon, there’s a bus stop nearby. We can catch the next bus if we hurry!”


	2. Stages Six through Ten

**Stage Six: Touch your sickness’ hand gently.**

Sans kept looking at your hand as you two walked. You stood on the outside of the sidewalk, closest to the street. You reminded him of Papyrus with how you subconsciously put yourself out there for people. Had he not been struggling to drag his oxygen tank behind him, he would’ve suggested that you two switch sides.

You stopped beside a bus sign, clasping your hands together behind your back. Standing on your tiptoes, you nodded to yourself, “Yeah. I was right, the bus to the stadium should be here in the next ten or so minutes.” You smiled at him, making him blush heavily. You were really pretty when there was snow in your hair and your cheeks were red.

“Yeah, that’ll work. Metta’s concert doesn’t start ‘til eight, anyway.” He inched closer to you, letting go of his oxygen tank in the process. You glanced down at him when his fingers grazed the side of your hand.

“Sans?” you asked softly.

“Your… your hands look cold.” You unclasped your hands, letting the one he reached for linger on his palm. “I can hold them. Make them warmer for you. I know it’s not much, but I am some **hot stuff**.” You snorted before locking your fingers between his. Your hands were actually really cold, he noted. Your fingertips had started to go red. Carefully, he brought the back of your hand up to his paper-covered lips and pressed a (kinda) kiss against it.

“You’re adorable,” you said simply. You pulled his hand to your lips and kissed it. He could feel the chapped skin of your lips press against his skin, but he wasn’t complaining at all. It felt good. After that, you two fell into a comfortable silence, inching even closer to share the other’s body heat.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he whispered when the bus could be seen. He wanted you to know that.

“No I’m not.” You bumped shoulders with him playfully. “I’m just me.”

“Yeah,” Sans mumbled, “but you’re still the prettiest girl in the world, Cheese.” He could feel you shake your head, chuckling with mirth. “I mean it. You’re super pretty. Your eyes always sparkle when you talk about your major, and you always get these cute little crinkles by your eyes when you smile, not to mention how cute you look when you wear that silly flower crown you bought that one day.” He looked at you, seeing your smile fall into wonderment.

“And you’re the handsomest boy in the world, Sans.” You nodded assuredly. “I think it’s cute that you’re an inch or so shorter than me, and how expressive your face is despite your mask, and you’re always saying something adorable, and your eyes are the most gorgeous shade of blue…” You blushed when you realized you had been rambling. The bus pulled up, and you tugged him on in silence.

At least until he said embarrassedly, “Thanks.”

**Stage Seven: Kiss your sickness for the first time.**

After the third song, Mettaton stopped for a breather. His silky black hair was starting to become a little greasy from sweat, since he was under lights and he’d been running around the stage like a madman. He grinned out over the crowd, winking when he locked eyes with you. He had been frequently looking over at you and Sans, almost as if he was checking up on you two.

Sans had been very uninformed about the quality of your seats. _Front row_ was a little bit of a stretch. _Sitting in a special area that had zero people except you two right smack dab in front of the stage_ would’ve been far more accurate. Like? It was a huge area set apart for you two, with velvet ropes and a bouncer to keep people out.

You gripped Sans’ hand tightly, feeling glares on your back once again. Mettaton’s looks over to you two hadn’t gone unnoticed by his fans. Some were jealous, others were snapping photos, and everyone else just danced along to the music. MTT’s voice rang out after he inhaled a few more times, “Now, my beauties and gentlebeauties, I have a special song for you!”

You would recognize those first few opening bars anywhere. You looked at Sans excitedly, taking his hand off of his oxygen tank and into yours. The crowd had recognized it as well, and you smiled widely at him. He was looking at you in surprise as you sang the first few bars with the rest of the crowd. “ _I’m sorry for everything, oh everything I’ve done!_ ” 

His blue eyes sparkled when you started to sway, gently moving his arms to dance with him. It was wonderful to have his hands in yours, your eyes shut as you sang along. Had you been able to read thoughts, you would’ve known that Sans found you absolutely beautiful in that moment. But you couldn’t so you were stuck singing.

There was an inch and a half height difference between you and Sans, you being the taller one. So he freaked out when you let go of one of his hands, placing yours on his lower back. You could hear him gasp when you dipped him (carefully, because you didn’t want to pull the tubes from his nose or knock over his tank). You smiled, placing your forehead on his and looking down at him. His face had gone pure scarlet

“H-hey, Cheese!” You giggled at how his voice caught. “J-Jeez girl, you tryna get my heart to **dip** a beat?” His hands had gone to your shoulders when you dipped him.

“Yup. You’re too cute, Sans.” You two had to speak rather loudly, but it felt like you were in your own world with him. “Absolutely adorable, especially with your face all red like that.” You gave him a closed-eyed smile, showing your teeth.

“ _You’re_ the adorable one.” He let go of your left shoulder, taking his hand and tugging his mask down below his chin quickly. Before you could say anything (or open your mouth, for that matter), he pressed his lips against yours. Your face flushed when he pulled away.

“S-Sans!” You stuttered, “You’re gonna- _you’re gonna get sick!_ ” He slid his mask back into place after showing you a smirk. You continued to blubber, looking over him worriedly. “You’re gonna get sick and die! Who knows what I have you could die! Jesus, Sans, you gotta-you gotta take better care-Papyrus is gonna kill me-Please don’t die!!”

You two had stood up straight while you fussed over him. His eyebrows were still raised, a part of that smirk he undoubtedly still had plastered all over his face. “Well, Cheese, I guess you need a new nickname. You stopped, looking at him with your red blush. “I guess I should call you **Kiss** Cheese.”

Your anxious looked disappeared, replaced by a smile, “Well, I guess that kiss was good **Sans** mask.” He started to grin, and you wrapped him up in your arms. He nuzzled his face into your neck as you held him close. “Next time, kiss me where I know you can safely do it.”

“Does that mean I get _more_ kisses?”

You giggled and pressed one to his paper-covered lips, “It might.”

**Stage Eight: Ask your sickness to be YOUR sickness.**

You had invited your siblings over to your apartment on Christmas, hoping to spend some time with them. (Your parents were on vacation in the Bahamas, so they were surely having a grand old Christmas.)Your sister strode in, arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to warm herself up from the cold. Your brother followed behind, shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the back of your couch.

Now, were you all really related? By birth, no. Your parents had adopted the three of you before you were even named. One of those weird ‘we know the parents personally’ kind of adoptions. But you were family. Chocolate Chip was a short, pudgy girl that liked warm brown sweaters, big bows, and tying her hair up into buns. Peanut Butter was a lanky, tall guy with glasses and a collection of plaid shirts. He was indifferent towards most things, but had a strong love for plastic packaging. You had no idea as to why he loved plastic packaging so much. You preferred cardboard or tin foil, yourself.

You took the two into your arms, hugging them close. Chip hugged you back with an excited squeal, “Big sis, you look great! She pulled away, her dark brown scarf sticking to her cheeks as she said, “So cute! That little Christmas sweater is positively adorable! And your hair! It’s actually done up!” She started to bounce, “So kawaii!”

“You’re a weeaboo,” Butter said bluntly, looking down at her blankly. She pouted, crossing her arms and huffing. “But, yeah. Hi, Cheese, how’re you?”

You grinned at him, “Pree good, Butter. How’ve you been? How are classes at The Core going?” He shrugged, averting his amber eyes. He couldn’t hold eye contact for long periods of time without feeling anxious. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, “That good, huh?”

“I mean, it’s whatevs. I was assigned another student to tutor. Jared.” It seemed pretty offhanded that he would mention something like that. Until it clicked in your head, and you snorted. He grinned slightly, covering it with his hand. Chip started to laugh, too.

“You’re PB and J, huh?” she said. “You’ve been waiting to use that joke for a while, haven’t you!” He nodded enthusiastically. She smiled widely, “You jokester, you!” She continued to playfully poke at Butter while you went into the kitchen. They followed you, and you made conversation with them as you pulled food out of the fridge.

As was tradition for your family, you had the different kinds of balls made. A cream cheese ball, a batch of chocolate chip balls, and a batch of peanut butter balls. You had forgone the whole turkey and ham (because that shit’s expensive, yo) for some vegetarian options. You and your siblings didn’t really like meat, too. So, since it was just the three of you, you had made a large salad.

You didn’t own a table in your apartment, but you had a bar of sorts with stools and everything. So you set the food on the bar, then plates and forks. Butter sighed softly, “No turkey. Thank you. It smells weird.”

Chip nodded, “And the ham is always too dry!”

You grinned, motioning for them to sit down. You continued to make conversation with them, laughing and joking as you all ate. At one point, Chip had jumped up and launched herself at you, hugging you from behind and screaming ‘glomp!’ You merely pat her back. It was hard to believe that she had just started college, what with how young she seemed.

After she had sat back down, you went back to joking and talking about your lives. Mostly, about your college classes.

You three lived across the city of Ebott, going to the assorted colleges there. You went to the Underground, Peanut Butter went to The Core, and Chocolate Chip went to the Surface. Each college differed in what they taught; the Underground taught sciences and maths, The Core taught history and languages, and the Surface taught the arts. If that didn’t show how varied your interests were, you didn’t know what would.

The doorbell to your apartment rang suddenly, and you stood up with an inquisitive look. “Didja invite someone else for dinner, Cheese?”

“Yeah, that boy you’ve been going on about, maybe?”

You shook your head, “Nah, Sans said he was spending Christmas day with his dad and brother.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I’ll go answer. Call the cops if I scream.” They chuckled dryly as you walked away. When you opened the door, you blinked when you saw Papyrus standing there. He looked serious, hands on his hips and eyes firm. You gulped.

“What-what’s up, Pap?” you asked, trying not to stutter too much. He sighed, rubbing his face. You knew something was up when he didn’t immediately respond. “...Papyrus?”

“MY BROTHER HAS SOMETHING TO ASK YOU,” he finally said.

You blinked, tilting your head in questioning. “Okay? Where is he?” The giant stepped to the side, revealing Sans standing behind him. He was rubbing the back of the head, his eyes looking anywhere but at you. “Sans?” When you saw the snow on his hoodie, you quickly said, “Oh my god you walked here.” You looked up at Pap, “Why did. Why the heck did you walk here?” You stepped back, motioning for them to get inside. “Oh my god, get in here. Warm yourselves up or something, god!”

Papyrus tugged off his red scarf when you sat him on the couch. He could see your sister and brother at the counter, staring at him curiously. Their eyes drifted to Sans, who you had by the door. You were knocking snow off of his shoulders, mumbling something to him quietly. He looked away, not meeting your eyes.

“Sans,” you mumbled, brushing his shoulder clean of the snow. “Sans, what the heck? Why are you here? It’s negative three degrees outside! You could get sick!” You looked at him, seeing him struggle to get something out of his pocket.

He said simply, “I don’t care if I get sick.” He continued to tug at something in his pocket. When he didn’t continue, you looked at Papyrus.

“Not that I don’t think you’re sane, Pap, but what the hell was going on in your head!? Why did you let him walk here!? Are you crazy!?”

Papyrus shook his eyes away from your siblings (Chip had been giving him THE EYES. Yeah, _THOSE_ EYES. Butter just stared at him impassively.) His cheeks, which had only just returned to a normal ‘I-haven’t-been-walking-in-the-bitter-cold’ color, flushed nervously. “I... I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, FAILED TO WATCH HIM. I WAS PREPARING DINNER-A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS SPAGHETTI, TOO!-WHEN I NOTICED HE HAD DISAPPEARED. HE LEFT A NOTE SAYING ‘GOING TO CHEESE’S.’ I MANAGED TO CATCH UP TO HIM, BUT HE WOULDN’T STOP.”

Sans spoke, “I have to ask her, Pap.” You watched as he rummaged around in his pocket. He finally worked something free. “Cheese.” His fist was closed around something.

The way he said your name made you shiver. “Yeah?” You watched him, as his throat bobbed when he swallowed. As his eyes started to rise to meet yours. As he raised his hands to your neck.

“I bought you a present.” You felt his hands (which shook) clip something around your neck. You could see the very bottom of the necklace, and a wide smile spread over your face. You could see two little skeletal feet. When you touched it, you could feel the full (‘full’ meaning ‘entire’) body of the skeleton.

“Sans,” you mumbled. “You shouldn’t’ve.”

“But I wanted to.” He finally looked at you, and you were startled by how his blue eyes looked like ice. “I’ve wanted to do a lot of things since I met you.” His hands rested on your shoulders, and he squeezed them. “I’ve wanted to be social. I’ve wanted to talk to you. I’ve wanted to touch you. I’ve wanted to hug you, to hold your hand, to _kiss_ you.” His hands traced patterns down your shoulders, then grasped yours. “I know what I want to do, but it’s up to you.”

“What do you want to do?” you asked, feeling heat bloom in your cheeks. Was this what you think it was?

“I want to be your cracker.”

You blinked. “Sans? What-is that a skin color joke-what the heck? I, wha-” His mask stretched (so you knew he was grinning) when you let out a knowing, “Oooooooh.” You started to giggle, “My cracker? The cracker to my cheese ball?”

“Yeah.”

Your sister groaned, “I’m going to puke. Please get to the point.”

Sans stared at her before laughing, “That’s Chocolate Chip, right? I like her. Anyways.” He looked back at you, “Will you go out with me?” You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his paper-covered one.

“I guess I… **Sans**.”

Butter groaned, “I’m going to punch you… gently.”

**Stage Nine: Realize that you have fallen in love with your sickness.**

Sans stared at you as you worked on your thesis paper. You two were nearing your final year of college, and he could see the stress on your face. He wondered if he looked the same. You smiled from your spot when you saw him looking at you.

You two sat in his room, the one ‘safe place’ where he could have privacy with you. You were sitting on his beanbag chair (leather, freshly sanitized by Papyrus) while he laid in his bed. You sat your laptop on the ground, stretching your arms above your head and cracking your back. When he didn’t look away, you asked, “Something the matter, sweetheart?”

He shook his head, closing his laptop before standing up. He didn’t have his nasal cannula in (he said it was annoying to lay around with it if he wasn’t sleeping. He didn’t have his mask on, either) so he easily walked over to you. You looked up at him, grinning when he stuck his hand out. You set yours in it and he helped you up. 

At this point, you were a year and a half into your relationship. Sans had enjoyed every second of it. He loved the gentle kisses you gave him. He loved how you whimpered when he caught you off-guard with a hard kiss. He loved holding your hand. He loved it when you would fall asleep against him.

He was more than positive that you loved you.

He decided to voice his feelings. “I love you, Cheese.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I love you, too.” Then, you pressed your lips to his. He smiled into kiss, holding your face against his. You pulled away, setting your forehead against his and smiling. “I love you so much, Sans.”

“I love you so much, too, babe.”

**Stage Ten: Ask your sickness for something more. (Or have them ask you.)**

It had been three years since you and Sans had started to officially date, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. You two knew each other like the back of your respective hands. So when he asked you out to the cafe (you know, THE cafe) nervously, you knew something was up. And you had the tiniest of thoughts that you knew why he was nervous.

Okay, that was a lie. Papyrus was terrible at keeping secrets, so when he saw a (or THE) ring for the first time he had _kinda_ spilled to Undyne and Alphys. And then Undyne _happened_ to mention it to you. So you were as equally antsy.

Grillby smiled at you from the counter, waving as you and Sans walked in. You waved back, bouncing on your feet excitedly. He pulled you towards _your_ booth, sitting across from you. You two weren’t dressed up or anything. He had just asked you out for a lunch date. (Nervously, you reminded yourself.)

You smiled at him, reaching across the table to take his hands. His mask’s drawn-on smile stretched with his own. He lifted your hand to his mouth in a kiss. “So.” You looked at him when your hands were set back against the table. He raised an eyebrow. “You were nervous earlier.” You had not meant to be so blunt, but there was no use beating around the bush, was there?

His face went red. “W-what? Are you talkin’ about, darling?” You giggled at his embarrassed reaction. “I’m not. Nervous. Or uh, anything.”

“Sure. Sure.” You leaned forward, looking at him jovially. “Are you sure you’re not nervous?” He looked away, tugging at the hood of his skeleton jacket (one you had bought him a year or so ago). “Saaaaansy?” That nickname only came out when you were teasing him. “Saaaaaaansy?”

He dug in his pocket, then slammed a velvet box against his table. “Who told you?” he asked, rubbing his flushed cheek. He refused to look at you. “I’m gonna have a bone to pick with them.” You grinned, reaching for the box. He slapped your hand away. “Even though you know, we’re gonna go about this properly.”

“Sans-No, the floor is dirty-” He had none of it, moving his tank so he could get on one knee. You started to blush when all the movement in the cafe stopped. You could feel tears in your eyes from the happiness you felt. “Sans-C’mon-the floor’s gross and you’re gonna get sick-”

“I don’t care if I get sick if it means I get to do something for you. How many times have I told you that?” He was leaning against the booth seat while he steadied himself. His fingers started to shake as he went to open the velvet box. He stared at its contents before looking at you. “Cream Cheese Ball.” There were snickers from the other customers at your name.

“Sans Serif Gaster,” you responded, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “Do you have a question for me?”

“Do you have an answer I’d like to hear?” he said, smirking. You nodded. “So. Cheese.” He turned the box to you, revealing a ring. It was a gold band with a small diamond in the middle. It was simple and you loved it. “Will you marry me?” You grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him towards you so you could kiss him through his mask.

When you pulled away, you nodded furiously, “Of course, you dweeb!” You kissed him through his mask again. You started crying, hugging him close. “I love you, Sans.”

“I love you, too, Cheese.” He pat your back. “Can I put the ring on your finger now?” You nodded, pulling away and extending your left hand to him. He pulled the ring out of the box, but the holder came with it. Underneath the holder was a piece of paper. You noticed it, reaching out to snatch it. On it was a sticker. A skeleton sticker. You started to cry even harder as he slid the ring onto your finger. “Hey,” he said softly when you clutched the sticker in your left hand. “Do you still think my skeletons stickers are really uber cool?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Shots' by Imagine Dragons makes a (brief) appearance.
> 
> Also please comment? I like hearing what you thought.

**Author's Note:**

> First off: @polarcapsicles, did I make you proud?  
> Second off: Cream Cheese Ball, Chocolate Chip Ball, and Peanut Butter Ball are all based off of OC monsters by the same names. I have designs for them (both human and monster) LOL  
> Please follow my tumblr (radikewwll.tumblr.com) for all your Undertale needs!


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